


I Blame the Basilisk

by Occamaestro



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bad Puns, Bad refrences, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Deal With It, Demon birds, Godric has been found, Harry Potter is Salazar Slytherin, Hogwarts Sixth Year, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Salazar is a bad actor, Salazar is weak XD, So bad, You Have Been Warned, a very potter musical refrences, are real, basilisk is named bessie, horny basilisk, so much crack, some casual and non explicit talk of cannibalism, very bad actor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29206557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Occamaestro/pseuds/Occamaestro
Summary: Salazar wakes up in the body of a teenager with horrible eyesight. He's confused and pissed off when he finds out about the state of the wizarding world. Luckily, he's not alone: Godric wakes up in the body of a spoiled pureblood kid who has evil albino peacocks in his garden, to his horror. The wizarding world has no idea what kind of storm is brewing.Beta'd by the amazing Sayuri Tamano!!
Relationships: Future Original Draco Malfoy/ Harry Potter, Gilderoy Lockhart/Voldemort, Godric Gryffindor & Salazar Slytherin, very minor Drarry
Comments: 32
Kudos: 66





	1. Prolouge: Salazar Slytherin's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goldenzingy46](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenzingy46/gifts).



“Bessie, calm down,” Salazar backed away slowly, hands in the air. 

Salazar Slytherin, heir to house Slytherin [insert further roles here], was not having a good day. In fact, he was having a  _ bad _ day. A terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. 

Honestly, if he could do-over a single day in all his life, it would be today. The day had been so bad that he would gladly sell all his things, his soul, and more,  _ just _ to change his inevitable fate. He would even- well. You get the gist. 

You see, the reason Salazar was having this very-horrible-no-good-awful day was that he had forgotten to register his Basilisk’s mating season on his calendar. Usually, he would mark the dates, only two weeks a year, and then proceed to avoid the chamber at all costs during that time. This year though, not only had he forgotten, but he had entered the chamber, thoroughly unprepared, only to find that Bessie was lust-filled, bloodthirsty, and chugging his ritual potions. He had also told Godric to come down for chess today; that was okay though, Salazar didn’t care about if Godric survived or not. Much. Okay, maybe he did care… a bit. Possibly. It was a touchy subject. 

Currently, though, as he ran from the horny basilisk, he wasn’t thinking about Godric or their fragile relationship. In fact, his only distinguishable thought at the moment was “AAAAUUUUUUUUUUGHHHH. OH MY GOD OH MYGODOHMYGOD I’M GOING TO GET HUMPED BY MY BASILISK AND  _ DIEEEEE _ ”. Which was, to be fair, very plausible.

It was probably from both the lusting-basilisk-induced stress and the burning stitch in his side that, a few seconds later, he finally tripped. His snake opened her mouth, getting ready to either eat him or do something he  _ did not want to think about _ when he heard the chamber door open. 

“HONEY I’M HO-” the red-headed man stopped mid-reference when he realized that 1) what he just said wouldn’t make sense for a good thousand years and 2) his chess partner was very close to getting eaten by a horny Basilisk. 

“Wow, okay so this is awkward,” he said. “Should I just like-” he pointed at the closed door, “go, or is the chess game still happening?”

Salazar facepalmed. The Basilisk rolled her eyes. 

They stood there, silent; Bessie’s still jaw open, Salazar too afraid to run and be subsequently eaten. 

That was, of course, until the Basilisk burped. 

“Oh god that stinks!” complained Salazar. “What have you been-” he paused, wide-eyed, remembering that Bessie had been chugging his potions before his arrival. 

As he looked around the mushroom cloud that was enveloping him, he started to chant. 

“OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD-”

“I’M COMING,” yelled another voice. Godric Gryffindor, then, being the doofus he was, attempted to slice through the thick purple fog with his sword. 

“No, you IDIOT! Now you’re going to die too!” screamed Salazar. 

“Oops?” said Godric sheepishly, “at least nothing’s happened so far-” 

And then everything turned black. 


	2. Chapter 1: Harry Freakin'- What's my last name again?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Salazar gets drunk- meets the Weasleys, and shows off his very good *cough cough* not *cough cough* acting skills.

Salazar woke up feeling like he’d chugged several bottles of Firewhiskey. Honestly, now that he thought about it, getting sloshed and his current situation was too similar for comfort. At both times he awoke at someplace new, his eyes went fuzzy, and he felt like he’d been hit in the head with several frying pans. The only true difference was that this time around, he was surrounded by several concerned red-heads.

“Harry?” one of them asked, voice unsure. 

“Who's ‘at?” Salazar slurred, turning his face to allow him to burrow down onto the squishy and big marshmallow he lay on. They hadn’t had stuff like this at Hogwarts. If he had known that these comfy things existed, he would’ve scrapped the hard stone they had called beds long ago. 

The girl redhead looked to her (presumably, at least,) brother. She glared at him witheringly, and Salazar was suddenly very glad he wasn’t getting blamed for this whole debacle. The girl was much too similar to Rowena for comfort. 

“Ron, you idiot,” she hissed, slapping the other on the back of his head. 

Of course, Salazar chose this moment to start babbling. 

“Why can't I see?” he asked, bringing his fingers close to his face to examine them, “I waz ab- abl- ab- I coul’ see yesterday-” 

A pause.

“Merlin, Harry’s gone crazy.” 

The proceeding slap resounded in Salazar’s ears, causing him to groan.

“Noooo, too loud-” he whined, turning and pulling the blankets above his head. 

“He hasn’t gone crazy, you idiot,” a female voice whispered, slightly quieter than before, presumably for his benefit. “He’s obviously drunk. What did you two _ do _ last night!?” 

“I didn’t even know he was here last night-” the brother defended. 

“You better fix him or Hermione will have your arse.” 

“Wha-what- I don’t know what to do!” 

“Fine, I’ll get Fred and George to help but you owe me one.” 

“How can you even get Fred and George? I thought they lived in Diagon alley-” 

The door creaked and swung shut. 

A sigh. 

“Harry mate, you have to get up.” Someone shook Salazar’s shoulders, removing the blanket from his face. Salazar groaned. 

“Nooooooo,“ he whined, pushing away the imposing body. “No touchy- no touchy.” 

“Fine, don’t listen, just don’t complain when your best mate is dead because Hermione killed him.” 

“Godric, dead?” Salazar asked incredulously. 

The room went silent for a moment.

Salazar shook himself, trying to shoo away the poisonous fibs this haziness had brought. Godric was not his best friend. Not. At. All.    
  


Okay fine maybe Godric was his best friend, but that was only because Helga and Rowena were already besties when they had joined the Hogwarts Crew™ and that left them all alone. It was just  _ so dang hard  _ to become  _ actually _ close with people that had already established their relationship. 

And that was how Salazar was found by the newly arrived pair of redheads, experiencing symptoms of drunkenness, mourning about friend problems, and just generally cursing his life.

“Wow mate,” said twin 1. “Never thought you had it in you.” 

“Hey,” protested Salazar, pointing a defiant finger. “I get sloshed all the time, I’m just so good nobody can tell.” 

Twin 2 raised an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, we can see that.” 

Salazar glared at his blurry figure. He was worse than Godric. He paused for a moment. Scratch that, nobody was worse than Godric. 

The identical boys traded looks at his sudden brooding. They nodded at each other once and simultaneously pulled out two vial-like things, uncorking them and mixing them together. 

Salazar felt the cool feel of glass against his lips and he instinctively swallowed, letting the potion slide down his throat. The texture was slightly slippery but melted on his tongue as well. When the potion had made its way into his body, he started to cough loudly. 

“So. Frickin. Sweet,” he choked. 

Once his coughing resided he looked up, only to see the figures were still blurry. 

“I still can’t see,” he informed the identical blobs. “You failed.” 

The shortest blob, presumably the only female, groaned. Her figure approached him and Salazar was prepared to give her a no-touchy lecture before he felt the metal slide upon his face. Suddenly, everything was clear. 

“Wow,” he whispered, awestruck. “What is this magical contraption?” 

Now that he could see faces more clearly, the sceptical and concerned looks started to worry him. He needed a plan. He needed to act. 

Salazar grinned before shooting everyone slightly anxious finger guns. 

“I mean, I’m Harry freakin’-” he paused. “What’s my last name again?” 

“Potter,” answered the female crisply. 

“Thank you.” 

He cleared his throat and gave another strained smile. “I’m Harry freakin’ Potter, and definitely not Salazar Slytherin, no sir-ee.” 

The crowd of red, soulless demons nodded suspiciously. 

The tallest nudged the identicals before loudly whispering, “I think there’s something wrong with him.”

“No kidding,” said Twin 1 and 2 simultaneously. 

‘Woah, Woah, Woah,’ Salazar thought. ‘Talk about rude. Even Godric wasn’t-’ he paused once again, pondering whether or not to continue his thought. He chose not to, the bit was getting old.

He was saved from continuing with his horrible acting when a girl with frizzy brown hair the size of a lion strode in, mouth opening to start a conversation. When she took a look at the view, her eyes settled on the hoard of carrot tops.

“Fred, George, what are you doing here? Ginny? Ginny why are all of you surrounding Harry- is something wrong?  _ What aren't you telling me? _ ” By the end of her very-short-yet-frantic rant, even Salazar, who was the farthest away and still very much unwilling to move from his spot halfway buried in the mattress, could see the beginnings of an angry spark in her eye. 

Why was it that all the women in this strange place were like Rowena? 

Salazar paused for a moment. Where was he anyway? He looked around, searching for confirmation to his primary theory. 

Weird face contraption, check. Different clothes, check. Somewhat crazy red-heads thinking he was somebody else, check. Salazar nodded in agreement. Yes, it was definitely time travel.

It took a moment for the words to sink in. 

Wait.  _ Time Travel? _

He started to hyperventilate. 

He was stuck somewhere in the future (in the present?) with no Rowena, no Helga, no Godric, and worst of all,  _ there were no more Medieval Burgers _ , seeing as the shop was set to close a month after his departure. 

Unless perhaps they had re-opened? He shook himself, now was not the time for burger conspiracies. Now was the time to determine where he was and make a firm solid plan to….. Get some food. Or at least that was what his stomach was telling him. 

“Hey, Ginny-”

“I’m Ron.” 

Salazar nodded, “I knew that,” he said, hands on his hips. “I was just checking to see if  _ you _ knew that.” 

A skeptical nod. 

“Hey, Ron?” 

“Yes, Harry?” 

“What year is it?” 

“1995?”

“Oh shite-”

“Is he okay?” asked the lion maned girl Salazar assumed was named Hermione. 

“No,” answered all the red-heads.

Salazar was just about to protest when the door opened once more, revealing a blond woman that was most definitely part veela. 

“Woah-” gasped Ron near-silently.

“Ugh-” Ginny and Hermione scorned.

“I’m out-” waved the twins, popping away.

Salazar just scoffed. “She looks like my ex-” 

When the blond started to hug him, tugging him out of the bed with proclamations of  _ “‘arry-” _ and peppering kisses on his face Salazar only scoffed harder. 

“Acts like my ex too,” he murmured. 

When he was finally let go, Salazar just put his hands in his non-existent pockets and spun around.

“Sooo…” he said, trailing off. “Lunch anyone?”

“It’s breakfast time,” corrected Hermione. 

“Yes, that-” agreed Salazar, giving her a round of finger guns. 

The three exchanged looks (them being Hermione, Ron and Ginny. The blonde had disappeared into a poof of magical unicorn glitter.) and shrugged. 

“Fine, let's go.”

Salazar pumped his fist in triumph. Boy was he hungry.

  
  



	3. Chapter 2: They see me rollin' They hatin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Salazar eats food, finds out Godric is in 1996 as well and thinks the Weasleys are Demon Lords

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for this one, I realized that the humour is sort of dry so I added a cannon omake (or a sequence that does happen but doesn't fit into an actual chapter) to make up for the lack of actual funniness. Hopefully, it's okay!

After the crew of prepubescent demons (for what else could a massive herd of soulless redheads be?) had finished the majority of their spectacular breakfast (seriously who knew fruit loops tasted so good!) the awkwardness of before descended upon them once again, causing the table to become almost eerily silent as the adults joined them from their meeting. At least before Salazar’s slightly gross munching had drowned it out. 

Talking about Salazar, he sat, still eating, milking his breakfast for all it was worth. Human flesh just didn't compare to these wonderful colorful holed-circles. He would have said as much but- judging by the others’ disgusted faces when he’d asked if uncooked human liver was on the menu- cannibalism was most probably frowned upon in this society. Which was fair, considering this era’s food was much better than uncooked flesh. 

Noisily, he slurped down the milk in his bowl before turning his attention to the bread. He munched on it absentmindedly, eyes glazed over. 

Remus and Tonks, who had just joined, eyed him slightly worriedly. 

“What do you think is wrong with him?” asked the former, gazing at his pseudo godson in concern. “He’s never ignored us like that-”

“He looks like he’s thinking about something important,” offered Tonks, shrugging. 

Remus nodded casually. “Yes, that must be it- very important thinking at work.”

  
  


(Meanwhile:  _ ‘If I drop soap on the ground is the ground clean or the soap dirty?’ _ Salazar pondered.)

  
  


A few minutes later when everybody had eaten their breakfast and left (except The Demon and Hermione, of course), a bird flew in, ruining Salazar’s thinking process and almost clipping him on the head.

He ducked quickly, however, honing his reflexes that had come from several years living with Helga. Gods she was an evil prankster. He shivered, remembering the  _ incident _ . He had never looked at chickens the same way again.

“Is that what I think it is?” 

Hermione gazed at his head and Salazar brushed his hair self-consciously, wondering if he had gained a bald spot in the past ten seconds. When he felt no patches he let out a sigh of relief, only for a letter to fall from his hair. 

Hermione made literal heart eyes at the envelope. It reminded Salazar of that one time Godric had tried to seduce a dragon. Needless to say, it had not gone well.

“What?” he asked, somewhat nervously. As he had previously stated: Salazar would prefer it if this occasion did not end the same way as Godric’s and his one time Dragon mistress’ had. 

“Nothing,” said Hermione, far too quick for her to be telling the truth. Salazar frowned and shrugged, going back to munching on his toast. 

A second of silence passed before he felt her eyes burn into him once more.

“No seriously, what’s your problem?” Salazar asked again, slowly scooting away. 

There was no reply. The hunger in the bushy-haired girl’s eyes, however, was sufficient enough for Salazar to keep his concern at the foremost part of his mind.

It took three minutes, this time, for Hermione's glazed look to return to his envelope. This time, he did not hide his discomfort, instead he turned hysterical, backing away even further. 

“What do you want from me!?” Salazar asked, somehow managing to act somewhat-fearful, annoyed, and hysterically at the same time.

“You can’t have my mail, so stop looking at it like you want to hump it.”

Hermione scowled. If even possible, the rest of the table went quieter, gazing at the showdown in interest. Salazar assumed Demon Lords enjoyed violence and bloodshed, so the fact that the redhead was staring at them in interest was not very surprising. 

Meanwhile, Hermione’s eyes glinted slightly, as if trying to intimidate him. However, when it came to this more visible tactic, Salazar was unswayed. He had lived with Helga and Godric for years, and considering how they were just angry puppies in the form of humans, this was nothing. 

A few moments passed before the lion maned girl conceded, instead reaching to slap the back of his head. He ducked again.    
  
As he did two more demon birds flew in.

Hermione gasped and began excitedly pawing at the wax seal on hers like a kitten. The Demon Lord, however, was looking at his letter suspiciously like it could contain his doom. Salazar was not sure who to imitate; he was getting very mixed signals. Also, he didn't want to act like a Demon Lord and risk punishment for mimicking him, but that was only a somewhat  _ minor _ worry. 

“What are these anyway?” Salazar asked, poking at the yellow tinted envelope in morbid curiosity. Was the color just for aesthetic or was the parchment cursed- and the yellow being curse residue?

Hermione’s head turned to him so quickly he feared she would break it. Her eyes had a slightly crazed look as she said, “ _ What do you mean you don’t know what this is? _ ” 

Salazar started to internally sob. Was he going to have to deal with yet another teenage girl obsession? Rowena and Helga’s phases had been enough, thank you very much. No more Boy Band crush discussions would be tolerated. In fact, if Hermione even said the word boyband, Salazar would hurl. Seriously, girls with obsessions somehow managed to be scary and disgusting all at once. Salazar was  _ scarred. _

Ignoring his slightly exasperated, queasy, and also scared look, Hermione pushed on, continuing her somewhat crazed rhetorical questions.

“You mean you don't remember the  _ months _ of studying we put into this? You don’t remember your  _ O.W.L’s _ ?” 

The Demon finally decided to intervene, and, to be honest, Salazar was very grateful. He would have to devote a human sacrifice to him later. 

“Back off Hermione, he just came back from the Dursleys and had to cope with-” he paused, lowering his voice, “Sirius’ death.” Once the redhead had ensured nobody was going to spontaneously erupt in tears, he continued on. “You can’t expect him to remember when O.W.L’s are going to be here!” 

Slowly but surely, the only remaining female at the table deflated. 

“Fine,” she sniffed. “But don't forget about tests  _ ever _ again.”

Salazar, who was wondering what would happen if he asked her what O.W.L’s were (seriously, he needed to know,) just nodded, eager to get her off his back. 

He then, somewhat wisely, decided to  _ finally _ open his letter. As he tried to open it though, he realized he couldn't open the wax seal, and was left wondering about the superhuman strength the others apparently possessed. Seriously,  _ how _ ?

Finally, after many minutes of trying, failing, and being offered help, he sashayed off, intent on finding a knife, and  _ clawing _ the bloody letter apart. He needed to see  _ blood _ . He needed to see the parchment  _ scream _ . 

Once he found a knife, however, Salazar realized Bloodthirsty™ was probably not a good setting to be on when handling a sharp object. He deflated a bit as his internal Mad-O-Meter fell down a notch. 

After he finally calmed, he placed the knife under the wax and pushed, hearing the seal break open with a small  _ ‘crack’ _ . 

Salazar took out the paper and began to read. He, or Harry Potter, seeing as he had never taken these tests, had received an ‘Outstanding’ in Defence Against the Dark Arts, an ‘Exceeds Expectations’ in Care of Magical Creatures, Charms, Herbology, Potions and Transfiguration, Acceptable in Astronomy, Poor in Divination, and Dreadful in History of Magic.

Salazar sighed. Why was it that he had to spawn in a dumb kid? As he said this, however, memories of the Basilisk incident resurfaced with a vengeance. 

‘Point taken’, he sighed to himself. 

As he continued to glare at the letter, however, something caught his eye. On the right side corner, scrawled in a tiny tiny script were the words: ‘O.W.L result form- for founders only’. 

Salazar suddenly had the overwhelming urge to touch the words. As he did, he felt a prick in his finger. 

“Ow!” he whined, putting said appendage into his mouth. 

A moment later, the inicial grades disappeared, giving way for the newly appearing information.

Salazar frowned. That had been oddly convenient. 

Then he realized odd convenience was normal in fanfiction. If only he could put his finger on how this ‘fanfiction’ and his life overlapped. 

After a moment, Salazar gave himself the equivalent of a hard mental slap as he finally realized how close he had been to breaking the fourth wall. 

He shook himself one last time as he redirected his attention to the text on the letter.

It was, surprisingly, a list. A normal list. 

Salazar frowned at the page in exasperated boredom. When he finally got to reading past the initial title, however, he was pleasantly pleased.

It turned out wizard names still sucked in the future!

Seriously- there was a ‘Fay Dunbar’’. Which demented person had named their child ‘Fay Dunbar’? 

And all the alliteration names. There were so many alliteration names. Pansy Parkinson, Gregory Goyle, Parvati Patil, Godric Gryffindor-

Salazar stopped. Godric? As he re-read the sheet once more- thoroughly, this time- he realized that his and Godric’s name’s were both on the list.

Salazar was both ecstatic and annoyed. On one hand he wasn’t alone. On the other, _ he wasn’t alone _ .

“Harry?” called Hermione. “Are you in there?”. 

Salazar scrambled, tapping his wand on the parchment to clear it before conjuring a marker, crossing out the worse looking marks like the dreadful’s and poor’s and replacing them with nicer looking words like ‘super duper’ and ‘beauterific’. 

Luckily, he was quick, and so when Hermione finally pushed open the door, all she saw was Salazar whistling a totally-not-guilty-or-copyrighted tune while a comically large bead of sweat lay frozen on his face. 

When he looked at himself in the mirror next to the wall he let out a gasp. 

“I look like an emoji,” he breathed incredulously.

“A what?” asked Hermione, which was fair, seeing as emoji’s weren’t invented until 1999. Salazar paused. Wait, how did he even know about them again? The human-mystery waved the question from his brain. He was not permitted to think about such bamboozling things. 

“Nevermind...” Salazar trailed off, giving her his signature finger guns that had also not been invented for a good few decades. 

“Soooo, '' he diverted. They paused, staring at each other in silence until-

The door swung open. 

“Slimy Slytherins,” the Demon Lord complained. “Mum won’t let us go to Diagon alley until the end of summer. Sorry mate”

Salazar, however, was much too transfixed with the former part of the sentence to pay any mind to the end.  _ Slimy Slytherins _ ? He paled. Had the  _ incident _ become public? And worst of all, did the Demon Lord hate him for it? Salazar looked determinedly at the wall, recreating a sort of brooding movie pose. If the  _ incident _ truly had become public, he had to fix it. Pronto.

##  **-Canon Omake-**

“Harry? Mate, are you okay?” The tallest of the somewhat demon-like weasels asked, worry tinging his most likely deceitful voice.

At his sudden appearance, Salazar turned so quickly that he developed a sudden crick in his neck. He stared at the red-head with poorly hooded fear.

Internally, he was screaming. Demon lords were supposed to sleep in. They were not supposed to wake up early. Salazar was not prepared. He didn't want to die.

At the other’s nervousness and silence, the Evil Royal continued. 

“I- I just- I thought you might’ve had a bad dream last night. I mean you were groaning ‘no stop’ the entire night so-”

Salazar stopped, breath catching in his throat. His suspicions had been confirmed.

After a moment he dropped to his knees. 

“OH POWERFUL DEMON LORD, PLEASE SPARE ME. I AM SORRY FOR NOT RECOGNIZING YOU IN YOUR PUNY HUMAN FORM-” 

“Mate?” the other boy tried again, looking even more concerned. “Are you okay?” 

Salazar coughed once, standing up. Get it together, he berated himself, seeing Demon Lords was surely a sign of madness. 

“Yes!” he exclaimed very loudly in his _ I-am-totally-not-guilty-why-are-you-staring-at-me-stop-it-now  _ voice, trying to counteract his previous demon lord mixup. “I am totally A-Okay!”.

The lanky teenager tilted his head in glaring doubt. He then turned away, raising his eyebrows in quiet disbelief. 

Salazar did not feel guilty. To feel guilty he’d have to have hidden something and he had not hidden something. He  _ hadn’t _ . 

Okay, fine, he’d hidden something- but honestly, could anyone blame him!? First, he had been subject to a monstrous and porny lucid dream that had played over and over in his head- he would  _ never _ look at snakes or blondes the same way again- and then had been further plagued by a nightmare where he and Godric had been stuck together by dorky-looking friendship bracelets. Salazar shuddered. He honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he later experienced PTSD from the night before. So- as Salazar stated before- he’d had a perfectly good reason to withhold the information of his true status, and so he did  _ not _ feel guilty. Not at all. Nope. 

And yet- as the redhead’s eyes burned into Salzar’s neck, he experienced the need to justify himself. He felt the  _ tug tug tug _ of his inner bad liar, and then-

“I have dreamed of absolutely  _ nothing _ disturbing, so don’t assume otherwise. Seriously, don’t assume I did. Stop it.”.

Salazar was sure this would have worked had he not suddenly burst into hysterical tears and traumatized tears. 

“Woah, mate, what’s wrong?” 

Salazar buried his head in his hands, sniffling as the sobs quickly subsided.

“Well- well, Lon-” Salazar hiccuped. 

“It’s Ron,” Lon corrected. 

Salazar looked at him. 

“Don?”

“Ron.”

“Fawn?”

“Ron.”

“Dawn?”

“Ron.”

“Rollan?”

“RON.”

“They see me rollin’, they hatin’?” Salazar tried again.

“My. Name. Is. RON-” Lon yelled. 

Salazar backed away slowly, putting his hands up in mock surrender.

“I said that first, your name is Lon, is it not?”

Lon sighed. “You know what,” he lamented, utterly defeated, “close enough.”

Silence claimed the room, only ending when the carrot top coughed, trying to continue their previous line of conversation. 

“So mate,” he proceeded, scooching closer to Salazar, “what’s wrong?”

At this, Salazar’s expression transformed back from the somewhat chaotic neutral he had gained after the yelling match to his previous tear-stained face. 

“I- I just had a bad dream and- and my scar hurt because- because, I don’t even know why!” He wailed, tucking his head into his knees and rocking back and forth hysterically. 

“You-your scar hurt?” Lon asked worriedly. When Salazar turned to glare at him he noticed that the other’s eyes were slightly wider than before. 

“Yes- it was inflamed and stuff- keep up.”

“Harry, you do remember that when your scar hurts it means you’re having visions, right?” 

Salazar paled. “So-so,” he stuttered, “the dream where a snake faced monster was snogging a blonde and moaning out the name ‘LOCKHART’ was rea-”

“OH GOD,” screeched Lon. “TOO MUCH INFORMATION”. 


End file.
